The Things Found
by K Pierre
Summary: Akihito knows May 5th is important. He just can't remember why.


**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to the amazing Yamane Ayano, not me.

**Author's Note:** I had this written yesterday. Really! This story takes place after "The Things Lost," which is posted on my LJ.

"**The Things Found"**

Asami flew in a week before the day, and to Akihito, he was a present all himself, a novelty that he had yet to discover completely but always had fun trying. They'd spent a few months together on the island late last year, and during that time, Akihito felt he'd come to know the man known as Asami Ryuichi pretty well. He enjoyed the man's tight body and the constant openness that allowed Akihito to explore it with curious fascination, but very little of his life with this beautiful and powerful man resurfaced from before his "accident."

After missing his "lover" for almost two months, Akihito knew something important was coming, not just because Asami arrived, but because Akihito was expecting Asami to. He finally spoke his uncertainty at breakfast the morning of the day in question when Asami joined him at the patio table.

"Today's the fifth, right?"

Asmai nodded as he washed down his okayu and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Yes."

When those golden-brown eyes sought him, Akihito found himself blushing, the unabashed look of necessity and want still raw after only a week together. "So…why'd you come? There must be a reason."

"I can't just want to be here with you?"

Akihito fidgeted with his necklace, the leather cord rubbing against his already tanned skin. "So you were horny? Or do you have people on the mainland who take care of that for you?"

The darkness infiltrating Asami's eyes was contemptuous, but Akihito kept his ground, his own hazel eyes stormy with demands. He knew he shouldn't have questioned the man who kept him alive, who brought him to this island to recuperate (and imprison, a different voice whispered), and whom he knew loved him with all his heart. He could see it in Asami's eyes with the quick, sideways glances that Akihito caught when Asami thought he wasn't looking.

But Akihito couldn't help his brash curiosity. He knew so little, and perhaps it was his "journalistic" instincts made him seek the truth, but he couldn't sit "alone" upon this island anymore, wondering what Asami's did and why.

Asami's eyes softened, and his warm hand carded through Akihito's hair. This motion, Akihito knew. This motion, he remembered.

"I always want you, and I wish you could join me in Shinjuku again, but please indulge my need for your unquestionable safety a while longer."

Akihito drew his sandaled feet onto the chair and wrapped his arms about his legs. "You said that before you left two months ago. You're never going to allow me off this island, are you?"

The uncertainty lingering in Asami's eyes quelled his reassurances before Asami sighed and sought the box of cigarettes by his plate. Only after smoke slithered from his mouth did he speak again. "I don't know. I can't bring you back to Shinjuku until you can decipher between your friends and my enemies."

"You still haven't answered my question," Akihito replied. "Why are you here?"

That infuriating smirk graced Asami's face again. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

Akihito scowled before the tension drained from his shoulders. He struggled. "I…I knew you were coming. Today's…important, right? For some reason."

The smirk transformed into a full-blown grin, and those plump, forceful lips dug into his, grinding with unbridled desperation. When they broke, Asami's fingers traced the plains of his face.

"If you can tell me why today is important, I'll bring you back with me."

Akihito huffed and blinked away the sting he felt in his eyes. He was never getting off this island; he just knew it.

Later in the day, Akihito climbed to his favorite spot on the entire island, the roof just above his and Asami's room. It was the highest point of the island, and he believed he could see to the ends of the Earth if he squinted. He had taken to sitting up here for hours upon hours, just feeling the warmth of the sun upon his shoulders. It reminded him of Asami's embrace, ensconcing him in safe and comforting hold. Recently, he'd even brought his camera, capturing the tropical landscape and the familiar employees upon it.

This afternoon, Asami excused himself and apologized for his absence, but work demanded his time. So Asami paced down by the water, his sandals hardly imprinting the sand. Akihito focused on him through his viewfinder and snapped a shot, catching Asami in mid-word. He snapped another one, this time as the man looked over his shoulder, as if he believed someone was watching. The third picture caught an arrogant, flirtatious smirk that promised a tireless night.

Akihito drew his head away from his viewfinder, and suddenly, a rush of lightheadedness threatened to claim him. Suddenly, he understood why he enjoyed photography—criminal photography especially. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and heaving breathes exploded through his open mouth. The excitement tore through his stomach, like every time Asami turned his piercing gaze upon him. He didn't just love criminal photography. He loved Asami, he knew for perhaps the first time, and Akihito loved capturing his lover in his viewfinder.

But why? Akihito knew nothing about Asami. And he realized all this time, he had been asking the wrong questions. He remembered that smirk in his viewfinder, at the docks. He remembered endless pleasure—not just that night but many a night—and he knew the questions he asked Asami were ones he never knew the answers to. And all this time, he had been fixating on Asami and asking questions about him rather than asking the same questions about his own life. Who was Takaba Akihito?

The sunlight slid across his finger and caught the ring on the fourth one. He never took the white gold band off and never had any need to. Why? Were he and Asami married? Dread pooled in his gut as he remembered the question he'd ask his lover—his husband—that morning. Of course Asami had been hurt. He questioned Asami's loyalty to him, which he hadn't since…since…that blonde model tore into their lives.

Akihito held out his hand and looked down the ring. Asami had come home late that day, soaked in the strong stench of blood and carnage. Asami offered no explanation, no apologies. He simply drew Akihito to him, a long, rediscovering kiss washing away any of Akihito's complaints. When Akihito looked up at his lover, processing the turmoil that swelled in his troubled gaze, he gripped Asami's cheeks and pulled the man down to him again when the band's glimmer upon his finger caught his own eyes.

"Never take it off," Asami asked, though it wasn't a question.

Akihito grabbed Asami's hand, folding their fingers together, and he saw Asami's own band encircling his finger. He smiled up at Asami, tears stinging his eyes red. "You're regifting on my birthday? I already have you. I was hoping for the latest Wii."

He would have demanded to place the ring upon Asami himself, but Akihito couldn't help but shake the feeling that Asami had put the band on prior to his engagement that night, like Asami feared the outcome and wanted something to tie him back to his lover.

"Don't get lost up there. You might never find your way back," Asami's teasing voice called to him, and Akihito blinked, brought back to the present. He glanced down to see Asami waiting for him, the usual wickedness absent from his grin. "You got my good side, I hope."

"You have a bad side?" Akihito smirked as well and leaned his elbows upon the roof's edge. "So what'd you bring me? And don't tell me yourself. I already got that as my present more than once. It's a pretty lame gift."

It was only the second time Akihito remembered even seeing Asami's eyes shimmer, but the man produced his real gift—a red passport book, his ticket back into Asami's life for good.

The End


End file.
